


dancing on a blade

by loveinadoorway



Category: White Collar
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-24 21:51:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/268261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ comment-fic prompt by lionessvalenti - White Collar, Neal (+Peter), in hindsight, Neal realizes that Peter may have had a point.</p>
            </blockquote>





	dancing on a blade

In hindsight, Neal realized that Peter may have had a point.

“Don’t come after me, Caffrey, you hear me? They’ll kill you!”

Peter’s voice had been uncharacteristically breathy and shaky as the goons herded the agent towards an unmarked black van. Neal, being held at gunpoint, could do nothing, except stare, as they knocked Peter out and stuffed him in the back of the van.

Of course, Neal had had no intention to start listening to Peter in a moment like that, so he had sent Mozzy to guys who knew guys, had shoved bills in coat pockets and dirty hands until he had found a lead. The lead led to more people whose palms he had had to grease. Money didn’t matter, nor did keeping his name out of any of it. He didn’t care who knew he was coming.

The Russian mob was nothing to be trifled with.  
The blood dripping from the wound in Neal’s side onto the tiled floor was proof positive of that. Hurt like blazes, too. Clinically detached, he took stock of his injury, classifying it as serious, but not immediately life threatening. Would probably mean a few days in hospital and as long as he could draw it out being pampered by June.

Only good thing about it was that the goons thought they had had him. So he lay still and waited for his opening. He inched the hand that was hidden from their view closer to the knife he was carrying in his pants pocket. After what seemed like an eternity, his fingers closed around the weapon, thumb feeling for the catch that would release the blade.

Peter would have kittens if he knew Neal always carried a knife, he thought wryly, but then again, Peter had gotten himself caught and it was up to Neal and his trusted switchblade to make sure Agent Burke would be home with El in time for dinner. And make sure he would, whatever the cost.

Then his opening came and everything went frantic for a few moments. He liked how everybody always underestimated Neal Caffrey, with his three piece suits and fedoras. Manicured hands couldn’t be good for much, could they? Well, he wasn’t keen on letting people see his other side, generally speaking.

Neal wiped the blade clean on the big, oily goon’s coveralls, wondering briefly if Peter would be able to make this okay or if Neal would go down for life for this. Three down and none of them would walk again. None of them would hurt Peter again. If he’d go down for this, he’d at least made damn sure Peter would be safe when he was gone.

Not that it mattered if they locked him away for good now. All that mattered was behind that sliding steel door to his right and he was scared shitless of what he might find. He took a deep, shuddering breath and started to walk over, blood loss turning a few feet into a marathon. With the last of his strength, he slid the door open.

When he saw Peter, alive, unbound, okay, he finally let oblivion claim him.


End file.
